


silent as the grave

by shepherd



Series: libnyx week [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Character Death, Fate Swap, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Medical Examination, i don't know what else to tag i'll edit this later I Guess, listen no one deserved this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-04
Updated: 2017-12-04
Packaged: 2019-02-10 12:48:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12912240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shepherd/pseuds/shepherd
Summary: Three moments in a world that could have been.(alternate events of kingsglaive - instead of crowe, libertus is sent away from insomnia to find the princess)





	silent as the grave

Tossing the stubbed remnant of his last cigarette aside as he exhaled hard, Nyx closed his eyes. Only that morning he had a good half a pack left. Ten cigarettes; gone before the sun had reached its peak. A habit born of stress too many years ago to really remember the origins. His breath almost perpetually stank. Better than how Pelna slowly ground down his teeth, and cheaper. All he needed was something to take the terrible taste away.

Crowe had shot him her classic judgemental look once they had met, but not her usual spiel. It was all too clear she shared his tension. It stood stark in the line of her sharp jaw, the burning of her amber eyes. They stood, silent and anticipating.

And Libertus knew it. When the van’s horn called for his attention, he tried for his signature easy smile. He slung his pack over his shoulder. “That’s me, I guess.”

The delivery van had its motor running with a rumble. The driver lazed, had his arm slung out of the open window with his fingers drumming impatiently against the door. Libertus was set to leave them the moment Nyx’s beaten old watch showed noon. That time had all too quickly approached. The sun had risen high and it beat down upon them all with venom. Only a few precious moments remained to them now. 

Their responsibilities had never before taken them so far apart. Nyx couldn’t remember a time they hadn’t been only a phone call away, a few hours drive. Astrals only knew where Libertus would be by nightfall. Safe, Nyx hoped. There was too much despair outside the walls.

Libertus glanced back at the van and the reluctance was written all over his taut expression. ‘I’ll be needing that back,” he said, despite it all, and Crowe sighed. Her nails tapped an uneasy rhythm against a small, ornate box. When she handed it over again her fingers brushed Libertus’. “Sad? Didn’t think it was your type of thing, Crowe.”

Her mouth twitched. Even so, she said nothing. Pulling her jacket a little closer around her shoulders, she stood uneasily on her wounded leg. Libertus faltered for a heartbeat, before tucking the box into the inner jacket pocket.

A long silence took over. Nyx had never seen a joke fall so flat. Across the way they could hear the soft radio playing the news over the engine rumble, all the misery that they would have to deal with. Nyx tried not to think about all the news stories he heard of demon attacks on modest villages, it’s people getting dragged off into the night. Surviving the long arm of the Empire only to be taken by the darkness. It didn’t bear thinking about, let alone the thought of Libertus in that darkness. 

Nyx would suffer in the silence no longer than necessary. “Princess’ll love it,” he said, praying the glibness might disguise how his raw throat ached. If Libertus’ taut expression meant anything, it was a complete failure. Nyx didn’t let it daunt him. “Take care she doesn’t fall madly in love with you, yeah?”

It was a start. Nyx’s wry smile, however forced, was the first creeping crack in the ice. Libertus snorted loud enough to make the driver’s fingers pause. Crowe barked out her laughter, eyes crinkling. Deep laughter lines appeared across her cheeks. “Oh, it’s his habits that’ll make her fall for sure. That snort? Irresistible.” Crowe turned her smile onto Nyx. “You got one hell of a catch, hero.”

Nyx let his expression playfully sour, unintentionally matching the nausea of his gut. His fingers felt useless. They curled and uncurled over and over. Astrals, but he needed another cigarette. 

Instead, he delved deep in his pockets. A mint would do. The wrapper tore underneath his careless fingernails, and soon enough spearmint spread across his tongue.

A hand pushed lightly at his bicep. Libertus, matching her smile with all the light Nyx needed to see. “Don’t worry. Ain’t no one better for me than you, Nyx.”

Crowe cooed softly and Libertus only grumbled, leaning over to bat at her arm. She immediately swiped back as she always would and Nyx watched them bicker, children out on a battlefield. It filled him with a bitterness he knew all too well. “C’mon,” He said, and had to repeat himself louder when he went ignored. “C’mon. I didn’t raise either of you to be like this.”

“Shut up,” Crowe thumped his shoulder instead, nostrils flaring, but the smile had never left. “Don’t you start with that baby sister shit too.”

“Don’t talk to your big brother like that,” Libertus interrupted, scandalized, and Crowe rounded back on him - but the van’s horn blasted yet again, sharply twice. They fell silent and Libertus glanced at it. The garish yellow was beginning to hurt Nyx’s eyes. Teeth crunched down on the mint, splintering it into sharp pieces. In such small fragments it dissolved quickly.

Libertus’ lips thinned out, and he rolled his shoulders hard. “It’s time, kids.”

It had only felt like moments. They had a day to prepare, a grace period, but it felt like a scarce few hours. Libertus received his briefing and had one last drink with his friends before claiming the early night, ignoring the wolf whistles when Nyx rose with him, throwing a few old bills down. It had been pressed back into his hand -  _ my treat, _ Pelna had said, and Nyx could see the sympathy. Their evening was slow. Nyx had watched Libertus pack lightly and then unpack again, fussing over needs and comforts. He hadn’t budged from his armchair the whole time, said nothing. Libertus murmured to him, or perhaps outloud to himself. Either way the lack of answers never disturbed him.

He packed his bag finally a few creeping minutes before midnight, and Nyx had drawn him inside the minor comforts of their bedroom, inside himself, and held him until morning.

“I’ll be seeing you,” Libertus said, like that was it, and stepped away.

Moving without the permission of his brain, Nyx’s legs threw him forward. His heart resided in the tightness of his throat. “Wait.”

Libertus paused. He held the strap close to his shoulder, simple necklace gleaming in the light. A long chain with a simple stone, the old one Crowe had brought him years ago. The first thing she had brought with her own money in the big city. It might have been scratched, might have been a cheap little thing, but Libertus adored it.

Nyx swallowed around his heart, and reached into his jacket. Rough fingers found the smoothness of paper, and he produced a letter. The corners were creased and bent. A careful and yet still shoddy seal had been unbroken, uncertainly made by the drippings of Nyx’s candle and the secret borrowing of Drautos’ seal. Safety first, he thought. Nyx would have sooner died than taken a hit to his reputation. He offered it to Libertus between two gloved fingers.

“For you,” Nyx explained as calm as he could manage, hoping his dignity would remain intact even a few precious seconds longer. Libertus’ brows shot up.

“What’s this?” Even as he accepted it, he remained incredulous.

“Doesn’t matter,” Nyx lied. There was enough self awareness to be embarrassed by the blocky print of Libertus’ name, accidentally smeared when the ink hadn’t dried fast enough. “Take it with you.”

“Better be some godsdamn Kenny Crow coupons,” Libertus tried, and cleared his throat hard when Nyx didn’t smile. He held the letter close. “Uh, thanks. I’ll keep it safe.”

“Open it when you think of me,” Nyx told him, and it was Libertus’ turn to falter. His eyes abruptly lit up with understanding, softening.

“Come here,” He murmured, and Crowe immediately averted her eyes - tactful, for once. “Kiss me.”

Even as Nyx swept forward, he thought of the crushed remains of the cigarette behind. The ash had merged with the muck. In retrospect the mint didn’t seem enough. One day he would quit. One day he’d be good for Libertus. “You really want to kiss me after that?”

“Always want you,” Libertus replied, and he reached up to cup Nyx’s head and bring him close. Their noses nudged before their lips met and Nyx managed weak laughter, casting warm breath across Libertus’ chin. It might have been awkward, but always endearing, and when their lips met it was perfect.

It didn’t last long enough. Nyx had moments to sink into his lover before Libertus was pulling away. A thumb stroked across the base of his skull, teasing through his hair, brushing the line of his jaw. When Libertus smiled, every part of him ached.

“I’ll be back before you know it,” He promised, and tucked the letter alongside the box, close to his heart. His cheeks were a little flushed. Nyx wanted nothing more than to draw him back in and never let go. To hell with Drautos, to hell with the world. In the same way Nyx was Libertus’, Libertus was his. No one would take them away. “I’ll be thinking of you the entire time.”

Libertus stepped back, closer to the waiting open doors of the van. Crowe’s motorcycle waited within, on loan. It might have been her baby but they knew it would guide Libertus safety, spirit him away long before daemon claws ruined the roads. There were some things that didn’t matter in the long run. She stepped forward, uneven. Nyx followed closely with a hand at her elbow. She shrugged him off. “You better. You’re running up one hell of a bill at the bar. Don’t go thinking you can skip out on it, now.”

“Cross my heart,” He said, and without any further farewells he tossed his pack into the van. It made little noise. Only clothes and water alongside the odd powerbar were inside. Clambering up, he pounded his fist against the wall for the driver before grasping the doors, offering one last smile. “Love you,” He told Crowe, gentle and proud. When his eyes shifted to Nyx again, his smile stretched further. “And I love you.”

Nyx reached out, hand hovering. “I love you,” He murmured, and with a wink Libertus shut the doors firmly, plunging himself into darkness.

 

-

 

At any other moment, Nyx might have felt guilty. All things considered the man was only doing his job, doing what the King had commanded of him. It was a shitty job in a shitty day and to make things worse, the Kingsglaive were ready to beat down the door.

Dark eyes brimmed with anxiety as he shrank away from Crowe’s anger and Nyx’s insistence. All things considered the man was close to a hero. Most men would have fled. When he backed off Crowe inched forward, reclaiming the land the man surrendered, and guilt almost manifested.

Almost. All that crawled in Nyx’s gut was the cold tendrils of panic.

“That’s my brother you have in there,” Crowe hissed, leaning into his face even as he tried to squirm away. Her grip on her crutches tightened to the point where her knuckles were flushed white. Nyx feared she might attempt to beat the man into submission with it, lingering close behind her shoulder. At a moment’s notice he could snatch for her, or slam past the man into the surgery room. If he was kept waiting any longer he feared the loss of his control. All that kept him together was the loosely strung threads of vague relief - Libertus, home at last. An injury was nothing compared to all those potential outcomes, the ones that kept Nyx up at night.

But with every denial they faced something was crawling along Nyx’s spine. Those threads pulled taut, closer and closer to snapping with each word. “Let me in right fucking now.”

“I’m sorry,” The man lifted his hands placatingly. Nervous eyes darted from Crowe to Nyx. Like pack hunters, advancing slowly on wounded prey. “You can’t go in until the examination is finished. I’m under orders from --”

“Examination?” Nyx’s body felt numb. His tongue seemed too thick for his mouth. “What does that mean?”

Regret was all too obvious across the doctor’s face, and when Crowe slammed her crutch against the tile they both jumped, caught off guard. It echoed seemingly forever in the long hall. “What the hell is going on?” She demanded. When she bore her teeth, the world seemed a far more frightening place. “Get the hell out of my way!”

“Ma’am,” He began in an almost condescending tone, scrounging up the bravery to step forward - and Crowe growled low in her throat, sidestepping him as agilely as she could and storming past. She shouldered the heavy door open, and if it hurt she made no noise of complaint. “Ma’am!”

While he floundered, Nyx shoved past his left. His long strides made short work of the floor and he ignored the useless sputtering from behind. In no time at all he had caught up with Crowe - and then she stopped dead, freezing in her tracks, and Nyx had to scramble to avoid sliding into her.

The examination room was ominously dark and even colder. It made Nyx’s skin crawl. Doctors were staring at them, silent and small, packing up and taking away trays of metal tools. One still held a scalpel, and Nyx’s heart plummeted to the point he feared it would break into a hundred thousand pieces on the tile. 

Only one light illuminated a modest section of the room. It almost seemed white and it burnt as Nyx and Crowe stared over at the bodybag, partially unzipped, tufts of light hair barely visible. Libertus lay stretched out on the gurney, still and silent.

No one said a thing. Doctors glanced at each other but no words came. Crowe only breathed, and Nyx’s mind worked softly, taking in the facts of the matter as gently as the could. Any more, and Nyx would only fall to his knees in ruin. 

Then Nyx’s fingers flexed, touching Crowe’s elbow, and the moment was gone.

Crowe darted towards the gurney. No one dared stop her. She limped, catching herself for a moment and wavering, but nothing would stop her. Come hell or high water she would be by her brother’s side. She dropped her crutch, sinking down onto one knee, the other awkwardly stretching. Nyx saw the shudder run along her spine - pain, he thought, until he heard her mourning cry.

“Lib,” She said, a whimper breaking free. “Gods, Lib…”

Nyx thought he dare not come closer, but he did. Step after hesitant step brought him closer to the light. Nyx could see the curve of Libertus’ nose, the details of his braids, the beginnings of his bare chest. Dark skin appeared ashen under the light.

“Libertus,” He said, and once again he was sick to his stomach. He feared vomiting all over the floor, over his boots. He forced himself to stop, arms crossed over his belly. Crowe was only an arm’s reach away, Libertus only a little further. Small hands clutched at Libertus’ exposed biceps. Bruising tainted the skin Nyx knew was soft and black marks were dotted all over, smears and discolourations like ink. Like tattoos, inked into skin that wrinkled when Libertus smiled. Those eyes, huge and white --

“Astrals,” He said, helpless. It emerged as a whine. Turning away he held his stomach, feeling something churn and his world narrow down to nothing. All noise and thought faded away. All that Nyx could see was the room, the darkness, and then the doctor who had barred their path.

It was done before Nyx could even think. Nyx surged forward, snatching a fistful of his stainless scrubs. “What did you do,” He demanded, furious. His victim jolted, fought against his hold in a panic. “What did you fucking do to him?”

Hands bat too weak at his. They couldn’t budge him. Nyx walked forward, forcing them backwards and up against the wall. Protests sparked from his colleagues. Nyx paid them no mind. “The - The King’s orders were clear- ”

Nyx’s other fist pounded the wall directly next to the doctor’s head. They all went deathly silent. In the absence Nyx could hear Crowe’s sobs. Tears were beginning to sting his own eyes. Libertus was silent. “I don’t care about the King’s orders. You’re gonna tell me exactly what happened.”

Blunt nails scratched at his wrists. “He - he was shot, that’s all we know - unhand me-”

Light streamed into the dismal room, unannounced. The door was thrown open to his left but Nyx didn’t tear his eyes away from the doctor. Heavy footfalls pounded the floor. When they hesitated, they did so only a moment.

“Ulric,” Drautos hissed, too close. Nyx’s skin crawled. A heavy hand closed around his shoulder, thick fingers and ruined knuckles hidden by thick gloves. “The hell do you think you’re doing?”

Nyx shrugged him off. Drautos only captured his wrist, twisted hard - pain stabbed in his forearm and Nyx yelled, forced to drop the doctor. They gasped and slid down the wall, recoiling from his touch when their feet hit the floor again. Nyx wondered when he had lifted the man from the floor. There were too many black spots in his memory, spinning wildly.

“Back off,” Drautos demanded, and Nyx had never disobeyed a tone like that. Foolhardy as he could be Drautos’ low drone threatened terrible things. Nyx staggered away, clutching his aching wrist.

“Sir,” He didn’t mean for it to emerge as a plea. “Sir, Libertus -”

“I’m aware,” The man said, and his tone was no different. No sympathy, no surprise. When he shot a glance at the doctor, they stood as tall as they could. Their lips were thin and pale. “Get back to it.”

Nyx thought of the scalpel against flesh he had kissed. His stomach roiled. “Sir, you can’t -”

“Get out of here,” Drautos interrupted, and shoved Nyx hard. It took too long to steady his feet, to right himself again. Crowe’s tears sounded a million miles away. When Nyx blinked, his own ran hot. “Go! This isn’t a place for you, or your theatrics.”

The words wound sting later, in the quiet. They would roll around in his head like the crashing ocean he had never seen - something they had meant to do all together, once the world was not so dangerous. Crowe would sleep fitfully by his side, cramped up in her own tinier apartment, and Nyx could wonder how a man could be so cruel. “I’m not leaving him -”

“Go,” Drautos thundered. When those eyes narrowed, they blazed. He was not a man accustomed to being disobeyed. “This is not the place for your grieving. Now get the hell out, before I drag the both of you.”

Those black spots expanded. The narrow world was overtaken. Nyx didn’t recall staggering over, didn’t recall ever being closer than a foot to his lover’s corpse. Didn’t recall the warmth of Crowe’s skin against his, didn’t remember bursting through the door into the light. Only the mess on his boots and the taste of his tongue proved to him that he had emptied his stomach at some point.

All the while, Crowe sagged against him and sobbed.

 

-

 

They sat together, and no words came to them.

Crowe stared listlessly down into the courtyard. If her leg gave her troubles, she refused to voice them. Spring days in Insomnia were all too often violent, harsh winds in the open streets and long shadows in the side roads. Nyx trembled even in the thicker fabrics of his winter uniform but Crowe seemed to not feel them. If she felt anything, Nyx would have been surprised. Everything he saw and felt bore a haze, like a dream dematerializing for the arrival of reality. Nyx could only hope that he woke soon, and in Libertus’ arms.

There was a box in Nyx’s lap, small and light. It was battered in places.  _ Libertus’ personal effects, _ Drautos had said. There had been a composure Nyx had felt incapable of. Even so there was a deep shadow cast over him; cast over them all.  _ The ones left in his rooms at the barracks, and  _ \- that’s when he had paused, lip curling -  _ upon his person. _

Nyx accepted it silently. The lightness of it stung him - a life, relegated down to what felt like feathers. There were many things Nyx wished he could ask. Haunting things, why and who, requests for promises of retribution, an inquiry. No one killed a Kingsglaive and got away with it. No one wronged a Galahdan. No one took away a man like Libertus and didn’t come to regret it in their last moments of life.

His lips parted. His mouth moved. No sound emerged. They had taken his heart, and his voice.

Drautos had lingered, wraithlike for a few moments. In his uniform and with his face grey, he looked far more corpse like than even Libertus. Nyx dreamed in naive heartbeats that he might get a hand on his shoulder, an apology. Bonding, over a loss that the both of them had come to know too well. Rage that simmered down into the ashes of grief.

But then he turned away, silent as the grave, and then he was gone.

Nyx dared not look inside. Most of his things lay back at their shared apartment and the thought was crippling poison through his veins, racing towards his weak heart. At some point he would have to go home. Home for them had never been silent - had always been their neighbours shitty music and Libertus laughing uproariously at some dumb skits on their television. Cars roaring above had been their constants. Some noises would remain. Others would never be heard again.

Nyx let out a trembling breath. Closing his eyes, he could feel the familiar burn of agony. Suddenly Libertus’ box seemed weighed down by all their memories.

“I can’t believe that’s it,” Crowe’s voice was as weak as Nyx felt. She had not glanced up. They had spent hours in utter silence. She was forced to clear her throat hard and try again. “That’s what’s left. That’s Libertus, in that shitty box.”

Memories, Nyx thought. They would be ever present in the photographs strewn around their apartment. But the brain was fallible, flawed. Memories were all the remained of Selena, black hair whipping around her face as she laughed, clammy skin soaked with blood. Some days it was hard to remember the beautiful things about her spirit when all he could remember was the bad of the circumstance. Tears hurt his eyes as badly as the blood. One day Nyx knew he would not recall the warmth of Libertus’ skin alongside the scent of his cologne. As he cast his mind back he could not remember the sweet scent of Selena’s conditioner.

Nyx said nothing. There was nothing that could soothe them, and there was no point to it all.

Even so, Nyx’s mind struggled to fill in the grief.

Distant curiosity came to him slow. His thumb picked at the cardboard, pulling the corner of the lid apart. Nyx had never been able to sit still for long and every time he shifted objects slid in the container, thudding against the sides. His mind was filling in the blanks, trying to cover up everything from the hurt.

Eventually, he sighed. There was no point in sitting in silence. Doing nothing was a waste of time. The longer he put it off, the longer he would sit in agony, and he removed the lid not knowing what might confront him.

Miscellaneous things greeted him. Bands for hair, a tiny tube of moisturiser, a receipt for headphones Libertus had recently replaced. A few scraps of paper folder together - names, dates, things Libertus had forgotten and needed to search up on the internet when he got home. What was the name of that movie? Who sang that song? It was typical Libertus, too often flighty and forgetful. A cereal bar, the ones Nyx had scrounged up from the back of their cupboards for lunches when he had forgotten to buy sandwich fillings, again. A tiny container of the oil Libertus used for his hair, the one that Nyx loved that smelt like hazelnuts and reminded him of home. Libertus’ wallet, little money inside and no cards. He had removed them before his journey. Nyx knew all that remained inside was his fake ID and the worn old photograph he had never removed - the three of them, years younger, still able to smile and let it reach their eyes. He knew he wouldn’t bear the sight of it, and kept the wallet closed.

It was human things, Libertus’ things, and Nyx regretted ever opening the box.

Sliding the lid back over, he moved to put it to one side - oil in his hand, making like he wasn’t going to take in the scent and fall apart - but Crowe’s hand covered his. He looked up. Her eyes were heavy and gazing down at Libertus’ things.

“Can I?” She asked, and when Nyx nodded without pause she reached inside, fingers curling over Libertus’ wallet.

Eyes carefully averted, Nyx gazed out into the yard. There was no one to be seen. A plant was of most interest, crawling up a pillar and reaching for what little sunlight poured down upon it. He studied it intensely for perfections. If he looked at their photo, he would fall into ruin.

“Gods,” Crowe breathed. In all of his pain, Nyx thought of her. A woman who had come from nothing and lived with marginally more. Losing more and more each day. They could relate, and had to band together through the blows. It seemed they never stopped coming.

Nyx stared at the fine details on leaves he could barely make out. They swayed in the gentle breeze. Distantly he could smell food from the cafeteria. Around now it would have been last calls for the Citadel staff. Nyx had eaten nothing since a hurried scrambled egg that morning, scraped up and messily eaten with toast. But he had only barely removed the vomit from his shoes, and the thought of food made his belly stir in a decidedly unfriendly way.

Nothing was said until Crowe’s elbow nudged at his. It did so almost apologetically. “Hey,” She said, and Nyx only grunted. “Is this what was in that envelope you gave him?”

Frowning, he found Crowe offering him a thick fold of paper that had not been in the box. He accepted it a little rougher than he had intended, murmuring a soft apology, and unfolded it.

_ My love _ , it read in Nyx’s awkward print, and as his heart plummeted he folded it back up and pressed it back into her hand.

Crowe blinked. The papers were almost crushed in her hand and she cradled it, smoothing out the damage Nyx had done. Nyx swallowed around a thick lump in his throat. He would not cry again. Not here.

“What was it?”

“I don’t want it,” Nyx told her plain. “Put it back where you found it.”

“It was tucked behind our photo,” Crowe answered the question he never wanted to ask. “Folded up real small. No envelope.” She pursed her lips. Dark brows were furrowed low and the darkness had overtaken her entirely. “Nyx, what is it?”

Those details on the leaves blurred hard. Nyx focused intensely, blinking away the tears, but it was too late. Droplets rolled down to his chin, beading and dripping, and Crowe leaned into him. When he shuddered she reached for his hand. 

Words caught in the mess of his throat. Sniffing, he fought against the pain. “Love letter.” There was no harm in admitting it, he thought, until he caught Crowe’s soft wounded noise. To him it was all the harm in the world. “Never had been real good with words. Didn’t know how to tell him how much he meant to me in ways that weren’t fucking or bringing home whatever we could afford as gifts.” Reaching up, he scrubbed hard at his eyes with his sleeve. It left his cheeks raw and the tears were quickly replaced. “Thought maybe I could get across what I needed to say in writing instead of words.”

Wet spread across his clothed bicep. Crowe trembled against him. Her grip on the letter was white knuckled. “Gods, Nyx.  _ Nyx _ .”

An arm went around her shoulder. The tears would not stop, no matter how evenly he tried to breathe and how he fought to be strong. Nyx had always been strong. There was no use for a weak hero. No use for tears, no use on a man with his feet caught up in the threads of the past when there was a future to be had.

Years of doubting whether such a future was worth it had made him volatile. Now, the knowledge that it barely was made him inconsolable. Scraps of his happiness had been thinned down to nothing at all.

“He loves - loved you,” Crowe hiccuped. Her voice was muffled by his uniform, and she sat up again for clarity. Immediately he missed her warmth and the sight of her blotchy face hurt him in ways he would never be able to describe. “He loved you more than anything, and he knew you loved him.”

“Did he?” Nyx’s voice was small, vulnerable. It could have been cast aside in the faintest of winds.

“Of course he did,” Crowe sounded furious at the notion, unable to contain her aggression - she pressed a fist into his side, pushing him roughly. Nyx swayed. Once he might have smiled, pushed her back. “Don’t you ever doubt that.”

The push hurt. Drautos’ hold on his wrist still ached hollowly. Crowe’s shove was only a brief pain that would fade in minutes. But Nyx didn’t really feel it, any of it. In the grand scheme of all it felt irrelevant. Through everything Nyx couldn’t remember ever feeling more tired.

Crowe tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. The bun was quickly coming loose and she gave in, reaching up to let it all free. It spilled over her shoulders and Nyx couldn’t remember ever seeing her hair down. It made her look years younger, small and slight. 

The letter still rest in her palm. The oil still lie in his.

“I’m sorry,” Crowe’s voice was nothing more than a whisper.

Nyx lowered his head. The pressure behind his eyes was killing him slowly, and he popped the lid off of Libertus’ hair oil. It had always soothed him. It clung to his pillows and Nyx always pressed his face into the mounds while he waited for Libertus to finish his shower. He would watch as Libertus streaked it through his loose hair, worked it into a compact braid. The container was still almost full, brand new, and when Nyx swiped a thumb through the mess he brought it to his nose, breathing in deep.

He didn’t know what possessed him to do it. All he knew was the overwhelming power of the rich scent, reminders of home and his lover. All things that had been torn from him.

When he dropped it, it fell against his thighs and rolled down, falling past his dangling knees and onto the courtyard floor. If the plastic cracked, Nyx didn’t care. Breathing was no longer as easy as it had been. He covered his nose, his mouth. Gagging hard on his grief, he could only be grateful there was nothing left to bring up.

“Shit!” Nyx choked and slammed his fist into the concrete of the path, and the scream wrenched from him as he felt his knuckles give was inhuman. “Fucking  _ shit _ !”

The sound echoed in the courtyard. Stone walls stood stark around them in, cold and foreboding like a mausoleum. The sickening crack of bone seemed to go on forever. Nyx wavered, lurching forward so far he feared falling.

Horror had Crowe recoiling. “Nyx,” she hissed, leaning over as if attempting to prevent what had already been written into being. She snatched his wrist, aghast, eyes huge.  _ Those eyes,  _ Nyx thought.  _ Damn, those eyes.  _ He thought of them, bulging out of her face, the whites overwhelming the amber. Darkness spiraling, black dots. Taking over them all.

He tore himself free. Pain flared up and he knew the skin would swell, the bones would knit wrong. It was difficult to care. He clutched at his wrist, the beginnings of a headache tugging at the base of his skull. Breathing was an impossibility now. His throat and his heart constricted as one.

He fought to regain control. Tears fell against the grey, staining it black. Beside him, he could feel the rage brimming, the swirling of Crowe’s anger as devastating as the hurricanes she could call -

“Fuck this,” Crowe burst, her winds howling, and with a tear of fabric and a skitter of metal across damp cobblestones her badge disappeared into the miserable evening.

**Author's Note:**

> I have a tumblr, at larsasolidor! hmu lads


End file.
